


No Strings Attached

by 00Wandering_Ghost00



Series: Haywired Circuits [2]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: #imsosorry, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Divorce, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Family Issues, Freelove, Housemates, Ill-fated Romance, Loss of Trust, Sad Ending, Some Humor, Songfiction, Summer Love, it will end in tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00Wandering_Ghost00/pseuds/00Wandering_Ghost00
Summary: She discovered that her husband was cheating on her, but didn't say a word. After Abraham gets caught in a web of corporate espionage and has to face trial, Mary makes her leave from the sinking ship that's their marriage, taking their only son with her. She finds a small house for rent, but she learns that she'll have to share it with another resident, a man who moves in on the same day as her, named John Simcoe. The same man who got Abraham in trouble. Both of them are cautious around one another, and both of them are running from their respective horrible former lives. After a late night talk, they end up lying next to each other the next morning. Mary begins to wonder, what can change in the course of a summer?





	1. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and John bump into each other at their mutual sublet. The first month, they just play cat-and-mouse in the house, while silently pondering what role the other might played in their respective downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> This is just a corny side-fic for me and my friends' collaborative work, "Haywired". It can be read as a stand-alone piece, but might contain major spoilers for the main fic, so proceed with care! ^^  
> Also, light smut warning. Nothing explicit, but it's there, so beware. (Or not. ;) But consider yourself warned!)

[Cover picture :P](https://sta.sh/01yl4gq9kn1k) _  
_

 

* * *

 

_"If you've been hiding from love_  
_If you've been hiding from love_  
_I can understand where you're coming from_  
_I can understand where you're coming from_  
  
_If you'd suffered enough_  
_If you'd suffered enough_  
_I can understand what you're thinking of_  
_I can see the pain that you're frightened of..."_  
  
Mary looked down on the sports bag in front of her feet. That was the last of all the stuff she needed to fit into the back and shotgun-seat of her car, leaving enough space for the baby-seat, where Thomas was sitting, curiously turning his head whenever his mum put a new bag on top of the pile. With a sigh, Mary sat behind the steering wheel, and started the engine, leaving Whitehall far behind. She didn't tell anyone, only left a short note for Abe, if by any chance he stumbles home from wherever he was at the moment. Mary wanted to be angry, but she only felt numb. She was arranging her and Thomas' departure for a week now, and the only one who noticed anything was the housekeeper/babysitter, Aberdeen. Mary had enough of living in a life where she is nothing more than a piece of furniture. She wanted to get as far away as possible. As the car was stuck in the afternoon traffic, Mary listened to the radio playing an ancient song she remembered being number one on Billboard the year it was released. Despite being only seven years old, and barely understanding the lyrics, she fell in love. Then the song went out of fashion, and commercial radio barely played it ever again. Now she was sitting behind the wheel in her car, Thomas sleeping soundly on the backseat, padded among the many bags and boxes she packed around him, and she found herself smiling. There was a whole new life waiting for them. For her. 

Arriving at the house, she saw a sturdy, if a bit worn motorcycle on the lawn, with three big boxes fitted onto it, along with a big bag, which was fastened to one of the boxes. The landlord was there too, and he was talking to a tall man in a dark green leather jacket and jeans. Mary couldn’t see his face, but she had a creeping suspicion that she knows the man from somewhere. She parked her car in the front yard, not too far away from the bike, and got out. She really hoped that the landlord didn’t change his mind and rented the house to someone else. She had nowhere to go now. “Excuse me!” she waved and both men turned towards her. The landlord looked surprised. “Mrs. Woodhull, I expected you earlier!” he said. “I left a text, explaining I couldn’t leave until two in the afternoon.” Mary answered, eyeing the tall, ginger man next to her. He seemed to be analysing her the same way. “That’s unfortunate, but I didn’t receive your text message.” the landlord answered. “If I did, I could inform you earlier about the changes in the contract.” Mary felt the last shreds of her cheerfulness vanish. “What changes?” she asked a bit more sharply than she intended. Much to her surprise, the tall man intervened on a calm tone. “Excuse me Mrs. Woodhull, but that was entirely my fault. I got evicted from my place quite suddenly, and had very limited time to find a new place to go. Mr. Appleby here made me a generous offer to share the rent with you, in exchange for a room in the house. I suppose it’s okay with you, or…?” he left the question open and Mary found herself feeling obligated to allow something she had no power over to happen. “Would it matter now?” she asked. “You already decided it above my head, and neither of us has any place to go to, so I guess I don’t really have a choice.” And with that she turned away, to unpack her belongings.

Mr. Appleby said his goodbyes for the day, and promised to come back after the two new residents settled. Mary’s new housemate was the chivalrous kind, as she discovered, because he immediately went over to her as soon as Appleby left. “Let me help you with that!” he gestured towards a large box Mary was struggling with, and lifted it up with ease. “Where do you want to put it?” he asked. “Umm… Just put it down inside, I’ll organize everything later.” Mary answered, while waking Thomas up, and helping him out from the baby-seat. She took the little boy inside the house, and was looking through the kitchen, only to take a note to herself that she needs to go out shopping if they ever want to have dinner. She was so immersed in her work and with her son, that she completely forgot the ginger stranger she has to share her new home with. She only remembered him when his cheerful falsetto stopped her train of thoughts. “There you go. That was the last of them.” Mary blinked at him for a moment and peeked out from the kitchen to see all of her bags and boxes neatly stacked on top of each other at the hallway. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have… I feel terrible. I should have helped you, but I got carried away with listing everything I need to buy…” He flashed a wan smile at her and shook his head. “Nonsense.” Mary still felt bad for having him as her servant, even unintentionally. “Let me help you with something in return!” she insisted. He was giving her the eye for a moment before glancing towards the kitchen. “In case we have some coffee, could you make me a cup?” Mary smiled at him victoriously. “I’ll see what I can do.” before returning to the kitchen and Thomas, she stopped and looked back at the man. “I just realised that I don’t even know your name. We’re behind with introductions I guess.” she went back and stretched her hand towards him. “Mary Woodhull.” he held her hand in his much larger one, and gave her a light shake. “John Graves Simcoe.” Mary’s blood froze in an instant, and she only hoped her expression didn’t betray her. She knew he was familiar. Now she knew how. This man was no other than the one who placed Abraham under charge for corporate espionage in their mutual workplace, a telecommunication company by the name of Howe & Co., where Abe was the corporate lawyer. “Nice to meet you Mr. Simcoe.” she said, hoping she will wake up soon, and see Whitehall’s walls and the crowded suburban landscape she desperately wanted to escape from.

Later they both sat in the kitchen, minding their respective cup of coffee. Mary noticed her housemate’s index finger tirelessly tapping on his mug, and she wondered if he’s always this annoying. He seemed pretty deep in thoughts though, so she didn’t want to bother him. Instead, she tried to recall the last time they met, before and during Abe’s trial. The ruthless, cutthroat corporate snake didn’t even resemble the man sitting in front of her. Thomas stumbled into the table, as he was exploring the new house and it woke both adults up from their respective tranquillity. “Hey there, little man!” Simcoe greeted the boy while he caught the child, preventing a major tantrum for falling over. “Careful now, you don’t want to scare your mum.” Thomas looked up at him and beamed, holding on to John’s hand. Mary didn’t feel relief seeing the scene, but remembered that she has some work to do when the little boy turned to her and said “I’m hungry!” “Oh dear!” John turned to her too. “I think we have an emergency.”

Mary stood up. “I shall go and buy a few things…” she stopped and made an irritated sound. She didn’t want to force Thomas back to the baby-seat. He was a decent kid, but he was inclined to make a tantrum when he was hungry. “I can take care for him until you come back.” Simcoe offered, but Mary shook her head. “No, forgive me, but I don’t know you enough to leave my child alone with you… Just yet.” She got a half-smile as an answer. “Wise choice. I wouldn’t leave my child alone with a stranger either.” Mary went over to Thomas, who in turn ran around John, and peeked at his mum from behind the man’s leg. He didn’t share his mother’s worries, it seemed. “You know what, I have an idea.” Simcoe said, looking at the little boy holding on to the left leg of his trousers, then back at Mary. “Give me a list of what you need, and I’ll do the grocery shopping.” “No, I can’t possibly…” she objected, but was interrupted. “That way you can look out for your son, and I have to do my share of household chores anyway. Win-win.” Mary looked at Simcoe’s face and tried to notice anything suspicious. But all she saw was a pair of cold, calculating eyes, clear as the summer sky above them. The man was unsettling, with his incessant tapping on any surface his restless index finger could touch, and his piercing stare that cooled even the overheated house by at least five degrees. He was handsome, but not the posterboy type, with his curly auburn hair grown down to shoulder length. Mary stopped analysing his features, and turned away, because she felt uncomfortable playing a staring contest with him. “All right then, if you insist.” she said, and gave the list along with her credit card to Simcoe. He gave the card back immediately. “That won’t be necessary.” Before Mary could protest, he continued. “I am the one invading your house, Mrs. Woodhull. A wise man once told me, that I shouldn’t antagonize people I am forced to share a roof with.” And he left with that. Mary stood there, looking at his back as he was heading to the door, and she only turned back to her son when she heard the bike’s engine roaring.

John was happy with how everything turned out. He knew he heard the woman’s name somewhere, and he remembered the lawyer he suspected with corporate espionage, and the whole ordeal. He was thinking about how strange life is. Then he arrived at the small market, and quickly got done with shopping. His phone buzzed and he looked at the caller ID. At first he thought that Mary is calling him, then he remembered not even giving her his phone number. It was someone else. A person he had no wish to speak to at the moment… Or ever again. “Suck it, Oyster.” he said, and pressed “decline”, then shoved his phone to his pocket. His last few weeks were a nightmare, and Edmund Hewlett was one of the reasons why.

First, his new boss made every effort possible to make his life hell in the office, then he complicated everything with getting ridiculously drunk with John on a team-building event, which ended with them tangled up in bed together. Then he sabotaged Hewlett’s project, to pass the suspicion to the person he thought… no, he _knew_ to be the corporate spy they were looking for. And Ed didn’t stand up for him against André and the other members of the higher-ups. He let them fire him. Not that John couldn’t find a new place to work at any time he wanted – another firm called him the day after he lost his job at Howe  & co. – but the feeling of being let down by the same man that whispered that he loved him into his ear. And just three days ago he lost his home too. Or rather, the place he was staying for a long enough time to feel attached to. Simcoe avoided to develop attachment to many things, mostly material, but even to people for a certain degree. It backfired on him in the past, and he learned the hard way, that when he shows a weakness, people don’t hesitate to use it against him. So he decided not to let it happen ever again. And suddenly a wild Edmund Hewlett appeared and made him throw his carefully built fortress of sarcasm and creepy mannerisms right out the window. No. He never wanted to talk with his former superior, ever. He sat on the saddle of the bike, and started the engine. He felt another buzz, but ignored it. He had work to do, in the form of delivering various foods and household goods to a – now single – mother and her son.

Mary was knee-deep in the task of unpacking her many boxes and bags, while hoping that her strange housemate didn’t just leave. She was equally relieved and tensed when she heard the motorcycle’s roaring. She left the door open, so John wouldn’t have to struggle his way in with the plastic and paper bags he carried. He placed the bags on the kitchen table, then organized their contents. Mary suddenly felt the illusion of them being an ordinary family. But then she reminded herself, that this man is not her husband. She didn’t even know him, and as much as she heard about him, he could very well be a serial-killer. He definitely acted like one. She was startled when she noticed Simcoe standing next to her, staring at her with a curious look on his face. “Can I help you with anything else?” he chirped. Mary shook her head. “No, thank you. I couldn’t bear to look in the mirror if I’d make you do one more favour.” He looked confused. “Favour? I did it because I wanted to be on good terms with you… I didn’t expect you to give anything in return.” Okay, maybe he wasn’t a serial-killer. But he still was the creepiest man Mary ever got the bad luck to be acquainted with. “Thank you, Mr. Simcoe.” she pressed out in a strict, maybe a bit dismissing way. He seemed to get it, because he muttered a “You’re welcome.” and left.

* * *

 

A week passed, and Mary felt at home. Despite her unsettling housemate, who resembled a flesh-and-bone ghost rather than a man, she was fine and even mustered the courage to tell her father-in-law off when he called on Abraham’s behalf. They wanted Thomas back. She told them she will never give her son up, then hung up. After all the things she sacrificed for a family that never considered her a part of it, she was determined not to give anymore. “Troublesome relatives?” she heard her housemate’s characteristic voice from the kitchen. She went over and leaned to the doorframe. “Yes, we can say that.” Mary answered. Simcoe occupied the kitchen table with his laptop and various books, barely glancing at Mary while talking to her. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you.” Mary shrugged. “I guess it can’t be helped.” she eyed her housemate again while he turned his attention back to his work. He was wearing a white t-shirt and similarly light coloured shorts, tucking his bare feet under the chair he was sitting on. “I guess there’s a reason for the proverb ‘friends are God’s apology for relatives’.” He mused, waking Mary up from her thoughts. “Are you a religious person, Mr. Simcoe?” she asked. “I was… Once.” he answered. “But I grew out of it, just like a child grows out from believing in Santa Claus.” Mary wanted to say something but the mention of children reminded her of her own. “Gotta go see what Thomas is up to.” she said, then went to her room, to find her son being sound asleep in her bed. She smiled and went over to wake him up.

John was immersed in his work, and only got out of it when he felt something pulling the rim of his shirt. He looked down and saw a little head of blond fuzz and two big blue eyes beaming at him. “Oh, hello!” he greeted Thomas with a smile. The little boy smiled back. “Hello!” he squeaked. “Whatcha doin’?” Simcoe lifted his arm up, so Thomas could see the screen of his laptop. “I’m working.” he answered. “Why?” came the next question. “To help your mum with the rent, so Mr. Appleby lets us stay here.” “Why?” Thomas asked again. “You’re one curious little fellow, aren’t you?” Simcoe asked with a smile on his face. Mary came in the moment he lifted Thomas up to sit on his knees, and watch him write a program, while asking questions, or babbling about whatever came to his mind. She felt a sense of uneasiness, but it was swept away as she leaned to the doorframe again, and watched her son asking questions and playing with the man she was forced to share her rent with. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so bad about it. She knew she should, but he really seemed like a different person. Mary decided to talk with him when both of them have the time. Thomas surely seemed to like the curious man, and spent more and more time in Simcoe’s presence, whether he liked it or not. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. Mary came home one day to find both of them asleep on the couch, while some cartoon aired on TV. She heard them play, she heard them laugh, and all the bad feelings she had about Simcoe seemed to vanish. Actually, he very muchly reminded her of someone they rented a room to, back when she and Abe had a house of their own. She told this to Simcoe the next morning. “Wait… You know Baker?” he asked. “He lived in our house for a year.” Mary replied. “How do you know him?” “I was working with him.” John answered. “Before I got fired, I mean. I heard he had an accident.” Mary nodded with a sad expression. “Yeah, I heard it too. Poor fellow. He deserved better.” “Life always screws people who deserve better.” Simcoe added bitterly. Mary wanted to ask him why is he so cynical, but she had her suspicions. “Can I ask you a personal question, John?” she spoke to break the awkward silence that occupied the room after they were talking about Baker. Simcoe shrugged. “Sure. Fire away.” Mary was thinking about how to word her question, to avoid angering or hurting the man sitting in front of her. She wanted to know why he chose her husband to be his scapegoat. She wanted to know everything about the corporate spy business, but she was afraid to ask, and Abraham wasn’t too forthcoming when she was asking him. Now, with the piercing stare of Simcoe’s arctic blue eyes on her, she felt unsure. What if she doesn’t have the right to know? What if Abe was right, and the less she knew the better? 

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asked finally. “That’s an interesting question.” Simcoe answered. “Evil or ‘bad’ is only a point of view. Take me, for example. Many people think I’m evil, or cold and cruel. While in fact, I’m just adapting to my surroundings, do what I have to do to survive.” Mary’s features hardened. “Was it survival then? Framing my husband?” Simcoe rolled his eyes. He had a suspicion that it was about that all along. “I had evidence, Mary. I wasn’t framing him.” “Then where did that evidence go? It surely seemed staged, the whole trial.” she steamed. He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? Someone up above really likes Abraham. Everything I gathered was gone without a trace, and whatever I said, no one believed me.” he frowned. “And it doesn’t even matter now, because they fired me, so screw them. Your husband, or whoever else is digging through Howe & co.’s hard drives for secrets, can do so without me giving a flying fuck about it.” He sounded honest, Mary gave him that. “I’m sorry that people, who had nothing to do with the case got in the crossfire.” Simcoe continued. “I would be more cautious if I had the chance to go back in time and do it again. But I _would_ do it again, because it was my duty as a loyal member of the company.” he flashed a half-smile at Mary. “You see, that’s what I was talking about. You see me as a bad person for doing what I did to your husband. But in my point of view, I was only doing my job.” Mary wanted to be angry. She so wanted to be able to feel something – anything! – about it. But now, she just felt empty. “Abe was cheating on me, John. All the so-called after hours he spent in the office, all the sudden calls turned out to be from his lover.” she looked at him, afraid of what he’ll think of her, but he gestured for her to continue. “I knew it, but stuck my head in the sand, hoping that if I’m a good enough wife, he’ll come back to me. But he kept on seeing Anna instead. For months, I was asking myself, what did I do wrong… What does she have that I don’t?” Simcoe chuckled, but immediately apologised. “Sorry… By Anna I assume you mean Anna Strong, aren’t you?” Mary nodded. John’s thin lips turned into a grim smile. “Then that woman is responsible for making life miserable for both of us.” he added. “How so?” she asked. Simcoe leaned back, and crossed his legs, while taking a deep breath. “You see; I know Anna from her inn. I frequented the place a few years back, and was…” he paused, searching for the proper wording. “I had a crush on her. But it was pretty obviously one-sided affection. And every time I saw her with someone else, I was thinking the same thing that you were thinking. What does he have that I don’t? What am I doing wrong? I probably did a thousand things wrong, but I tried. Maybe tried too hard.” His usually expressionless features took a sad tone, as he was keeping on telling his story. “But the thing is Mary… It doesn’t matter what you do, there are people who will never love you, who will never even consider giving you a chance. I was not good enough for Anna; I was never good enough for anyone. Not even…” he pressed his lips shut and made an angered sound. “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry.” he said. Mary stood up and went over to John, sitting next to him on the couch. “No, it’s okay.” she told him while patting his arm. “Both of us are pretty screwed up.” she added. “Tell me about it.” he chuckled bitterly.

They were sitting there in silence for a long while, before Mary spoke again. “I should check on Thomas.” John nodded. “Of course… Sorry for keeping you here.” Mary stood up and turned around, but caught herself glancing back at the man from the staircase. He was looking at his phone with the same sad and concerned expression. Mary suddenly felt very stupid to assume that he’s some kind of a monster back then. After what she heard, he was just a regular guy. Rejected, embittered and hurt, much like Mary herself was. She went upstairs, peeked into the small room that was occupied by Thomas and his army of toys, and went over to her son. The child was asleep, unbothered by the heat that made both adults uncomfortable. Mary gave a smooch on Thomas’ forehead then left him to sleep peacefully. As she turned away from the door, she bumped into John. “Excuse me.” he backed away. Mary shook her head. “No, it was me, I wasn’t looking.” He waved dismissively. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, nothing happened.” Mary nodded. “Umm… I thought we might continue our conversation someday… If you don’t mind, of course.” John looked at her with a surprised expression but he slowly nodded. “Fine with me. But now I’m off to Bedfordshire. It’s getting a bit late. Good night, Mary.” She said her goodnight as well, and watched as the second bedroom door closed behind John’s tall frame. Mary went to the bathroom, took a shower, and went to her own room, to sleep. But dreams avoided her that night for a long time, and when she finally could close her eyes and rest, her dream was about a certain handsome housemate of hers, dressed in nothing but a mischievous smile.

The morning found her soaked with sweat and feeling guilty for a dream she barely remembered. After another shower and quick dressing up, she went over to Thomas’ room, only to find it empty. Mary heard noises from the kitchen, so she went downstairs. Thomas was sitting at the table and nibbled on a small bowl of cereal, while John was struggling with the coffee machine. His hair was still wet from his share of morning shower, and his black striped white t-shirt stuck to his body, highlighting the edges and curves on his frame. Mary uncannily remembered some juicy parts of her dream about John, so she cleared her throat. He turned over to her, while still reaching for the box on top of the shelf – effortlessly, as Mary noticed. “Morning!” he greeted her. “Thomas wanted to have cereal, so I took the liberty of giving him some.” “Thank you!” Mary answered, and sat down next to her son, who chirped “Good morning, mommy!” to her. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked the little boy, who pointed at John’s laptop. “I’m working!” he said very seriously. “Oh, you mean John’s working, and you are distracting him.” Mary grinned. “Nah, he’s not distracting me.” Simcoe added as he sat down in front of his laptop. “Actually, he’s a very helpful assistant, aren’t you, Thomas?” The little boy nodded proudly. “Well then, I really hate to break this fruitful work-relationship, but Thomas has to go to kindergarten.” Mary said, ruffling Thomas’ hair. “I don’t wanna.” the child objected. “You have to, sweetie. There are other children you can play with. It will be fun!” Mary tried to convince her son, but Thomas was resisting. “I want to stay with John!” he said, and went over to Simcoe, who looked up from his work, and made an apologetic expression to Mary. “Thomas Woodhull, we had an agreement, remember?” Mary cast the strict tone, but her son was burrowing his face into John’s side. “I don’t wanna.” “You know what?” John tried to save the day by turning to Thomas. “I will go with you. I can’t stay, because I have to work, but I can go with you and your mum, if she allows me.” Thomas looked up from under John’s arm, then he turned to his mother. “Can John come too?” he asked. Mary held her hands up in defeat. “All right, he can come too. But you will have to stay in kindergarten without us then.” Thomas nodded. They all got ready, Mary took her car-keys, while John picked Thomas up and carried him outside. Mary couldn’t help but notice the man’s distress as they were preparing to sit in Mary’s car. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and John was about to say that he really has to work, but then he looked into Thomas’ eyes, and said “Nothing.” then he sat beside the little boy on the backseat. Mary started the engine, and drove off. She was certain that something was off with John, even as he was playing with Thomas. He avoided to look outside the windows, and he held on to the backrest of Thomas’ baby-seat so hard that his knuckles were white. He also seemed even more pale than usual. Mary hoped he won’t get sick. After a fifteen minutes’ drive, they arrived at the kindergarten, where Thomas was supposed to spend the bigger part of the day. Mary was about to get outside, but Simcoe was faster. He opened the door on Thomas’ side, and helped him out from the baby-seat. “You feel better now?” the little boy asked the man, who nodded. Thomas hugged John’s neck. “Ask Mommy to kiss it better.” he suggested, making both adults blush. “Come on, little soldier!” John said “Time to socialize.” Mary followed them with a smile on her face.

Saying goodbye to Thomas was harder than any of them thought. He really, really wanted to go home with his mom. The nanny said it will go away with time, and that many children acted like this on their first day, but Mary still felt awful. She noticed John’s hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.” he hushed her. “He’ll be fine. Two minutes after we’re gone, he’ll find some other lad he’ll play along with all day.” Mary sniffled, and held his hand for a short while before he withdrew it. “Do you have a child, John?” she asked him while they were walking back to Mary’s car. “No. Not yet.” he answered. “Shame.” Mary said. “You would make a good dad.” John chuckled. “I doubt it. But thank you.” They stopped, and Mary fished for her keys. Simcoe took a step back from the cherry red Ford. “Mary… I really don’t want to be a burden.” She looked up at him, and saw the same distress on his features. “What do you mean?” she asked. “As you probably noticed, I don’t take car rides very well.” he answered. “I reckon it will be better if I walk home…” Mary shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. What’s the matter?” John wanted to tell her, but he suddenly felt like a whining three years old, and he just put one down from his arm. He took a deep breath. “Nothing really. I just need a little air.” Mary nodded. “Then we’ll wait a bit.” He leaned to the car and looked down at his shoes. For a moment, he was ten years old again, playing with his brother on the back seat of their fathers’ Honda. He felt Mary’s hand on his arm. “Can we go now?” she asked softly, and he nodded. He sat beside Mary, who was sticking the key into its hole, and starting the engine. None of them spoke for a while, but John’s distress was growing with each mile. Mary steered to the side of the road and stopped. “All right, what’s going on?” she asked. The man didn’t answer, he looked like he was deep in his thoughts… or rather memories. He was sweating, pale and his breathing was shallow. Whatever was the case, Mary could clearly see that John was positively terrified. She reached out and held his hand. “What happened?” He swallowed and turned to her. “Car accident.” he breathed in a high pitched whisper. “My brother and both of my parents died.” Mary held his hand in hers and squeezed it. “It’s okay. It’s over now. Just close your eyes, take a deep breath, and we’ll be at home when you open them again.” he shook his head. “No, it’s… it’s worse if I close my eyes. I see them… The blood, the… Oh god.” he hid his face in his palms. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t whinge about it.” he said when he could collect himself. Mary shook her head. “John, you aren’t whining. You have a mental illness; you should tell people about it. If I’d know what happened to you, I would never force you to sit in a car.” He looked at her with feeling ashamed. “I don’t really like to talk about my weaknesses, you know.” he drawled. Mary rolled her eyes. “Men.” She was still holding Simcoe’s hand, and she squeezed it again. “Can you hold on until we get home?” He nodded. “I suppose.” Mary pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. “It will be all right. You’re not weak, you have problems. Like everyone. Hang in there, okay?” A wan smile spread through his face. Mary mirrored it, and started the engine again.

* * *

Another week has passed, and Mary got used to her new routine. John never spoke again about his accident, and she never asked him again. He spent his days working for various companies, either occupying the kitchen table or lately the couch in the living room. Mary was occupied with household chores and her own part-time work as an assistant in a lawyer’s office. She often found herself thinking about her housemate during the day, and sometimes even at night, when she felt too hot to sleep, and found herself wondering if he’s thinking about her too. Mary felt confused. She admitted herself that she finds John attractive he was, after all a good-looking young man. But what would that make her? On the other hand, fantasizing about someone is not adultery, and she was about to divorce anyway. She was thinking of Abraham too every now and then. Torn between her old feelings towards a man who never really loved her and her new ones for another who may never will, she tossed and turned. Next day, when she got home after work, and before she was off to bring Thomas home, she sat beside John, who was talking on his phone with one of his clients. Mary waited patiently until he hung up. “Can I help you with something, Mary?” he asked. “Umm… I was just thinking that we should go out tonight for a drink… As friends. If you’d like to.” she stuttered. He smiled at her, but with a different, much warmer smile. “Oh my.” he chirped. “First time ever that a girl asks me out on a date.” Mary blushed. “It’s not a date!” John grinned. “Well then, it would be my pleasure to go on a not-date with you, Mary. Shall I pick the place, or you have something in mind?”

That evening, after leaving Thomas to the babysitter’s care, Mary almost changed her mind. She remembered standing in her bedroom, staring at her reflection. Her make-up was bold, her jeans tight, heels high and her tank top revealed a bit more than she remembered. She let her long, curly strawberry-blond hair down, only brushed it so it resembled human hair more than it did a pile of hay. “Why do I do this?” she asked herself, but got no answer. She waited for John downstairs, who was ready a few minutes later than her. In his usual grey jeans- white t-shirt – leather jacket combo with biker boots. “Milady, do you fancy a ride on my steel horse?” he asked, and Mary chuckled. “As a matter of fact I do, but we can walk, bar’s not that far.” John looked at Mary’s high-heeled sandals. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “It’s just a few streets away. I can walk that distance. Besides, tonight we want to drink some adult juice, and you shouldn’t drive while intoxicated.” John nodded. “Ever the prudent one. Lead the way then!” he gestured toward the street, and they both waved goodbye to the babysitter and Thomas, then walked the few streets to the place Mary wanted to visit ever since she took the turn towards the sublet for the first time. It had a cosy atmosphere, good music and good drinks, and they were really like friends for most of the night. “… And that’s why I had to cross the Canadian border, really quickly.” John finished a story. Mary was laughing through it, even though the story itself wasn’t funny at all. It was John’s way of telling it, that made her laugh. She wondered why nobody dated this man. He was nothing like she imagined him when they first met. Again, Mary had to admit that John, much like the Roman god Janus, had two different faces. She wanted to enjoy the company of the funny, witty and charming face, so she ordered another round. She found him tapping his finger on his glass again, and – thanks to the already decent amount of alcohol she consumed – asked about it. “I don’t know.” Simcoe confessed. “I always do this when I’m thinking. Since I was a kid.” “Seems like everyone has their own funny habits.” Mary shrugged and took a sip from her Martini. “Oh, really? What’s yours?” Simcoe asked, and Mary was thinking for a moment. “Well, I like stuff that’s not… You know, girlish.” she took another sip, while he leaned closer to her. “I’m listening…” he teased. “I can shoot.” Mary continued. “I won a state championship when I was seventeen.” “And why did you move here?” John asked. “I wanted to hunt moose.” Mary answered with a straight face, then she cracked up. “But it seems I found a fox instead.” she added. “A fox, you say.” Simcoe smirked. “Mmm… Maybe it’s a wolf, who knows… Or maybe it’s not even canine, but feline.” Mary mused, looking into John’s eyes. “A mountain lion.” Their faces were close, and Mary could smell John’s after shave. She acted on an impulse, and leaned closer, to give a kiss to him. He didn’t object, but was genuinely surprised for a moment, before returning it with an intensity Mary didn’t expect. She reached out and held his face in her hand. Then they backed away a bit, to take a breath. “That was… unexpected.” Simcoe commented with clearing his throat. Mary suddenly didn’t know what to think or say. “I’m sorry…” she muttered. “Don’t be.” he said.   

The babysitter was surprised to see them home relatively early. It wasn’t even midnight. “Thank you Kristen!” John mouthed at her while he tried to keep Mary on her feet. “Please come again, you seem like a nice girl!” Mary added, giggling and almost falling over, holding on to John’s arm. “Mary, behave yourself!” he told her while he fished out a few bank notes to give them to the babysitter, who immediately left. Mary nestled to John, and stroked her hand on his stomach and chest. “Can I ask a very inappropriate question, Mr. Simcoe?” she asked while John was struggling to lead her to the couch. They both fell to it, and Mary started to laugh. “All right, ask.” John said after he managed to sit straight. “Do you even like girls?” she asked but only got a half-smile as an answer. “Don’t give me the John-a-Lisa. I want to know if I even have a chance.” Simcoe’s smile widened, but he shook his head. “Mary, you’re married. And drunk.” “And you’re a walking wet dream, honey. Did you even know that?” she riposted. “Besides, I’m going to divorce anyway.” She leaned closer and cuddled up to John, but he slid farther. “I can’t.” he said. Mary’s heart sank. “Damn it. I knew it.” John raised his brow. “You’re gay.” Mary stated. “That’s my luck. I meet a guy who’s handsome, nice and witty, and even my kid likes him, and he’s into guys too.” John laughed. “Oh madam, you have me all wrong.” Mary slapped his thigh. “If you insist on guessing my sexuality, I shall help you by giving you a clue: I have twice as many chances to get dumped.” he continued. “So you’re into girls.” Mary grinned. “And guys as well.” John stuck his tongue out. “But you’re drunk, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow.” Mary sat up to look into his eyes. “I’m not that drunk, John. And I know what I want.” He still held on. “It would be wrong.” “Wrong?” Mary echoed. “Darling, it would only take one word from you and my panties would fly out the window. It’s not like you’re raping me or something.” she leaned closer to him. “Stop being a knight in shiny armour, for fuck’s sake.” Oh if she’d knew… John was holding on to the last bits of his resolve, but when she kissed him again, he felt it melting away like snow on the first day of spring. They both helped each other’s clothes off, as they were making their way up to his room. He held her close, made her sigh, and made her moan his name in the heat of the night and their mutual passion. As much as he was resisting it at first, he couldn’t get enough of her. She dug her nails into the skin on his back, seeing stars with every thrust, mewing like a cat. They both shook at the end, entwined with each other.

_“…And we’re only here sharing our free love_

_Let’s make it clear, that this is free love_

_No hidden catch, no strings attached_

_Just free love…”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Most lyric quotes and title are from Depeche Mode's "Freelove". As the sort-of "Theme-song" for the fic, it will be heavily quoted and referenced. All rights go to the song's respective owners, I just love it personally, and found it fitting for the narrative. 
> 
> \- Fun fact: Freelove was reaching number 1 on US Billboard the year it was released (November, 2001). It performed less spectacularly around the globe though. (it didn't even make it into the top 100 in Australia, for example.) 
> 
> \- Fun fact nr. 2: The Triumph Tiger Explorer XC (John's bike for short) can be fitted with enough cargo for a camping, so I guess John could easily move his stuff on it. (Proof: http://www.triumphmotocikli.com/assets/Uploads/_resampled/SetWidth1140-triumph-explorer-spreman-za-voznju-full-oprema-koferi-vjetrobran-maglenke.jpg and https://images.1000ps.net/u-uw_36257_2-triumph-tiger-explorer-xc-634994782217078986.jpg and http://www.manicnomads.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/Triumph-900x.png )
> 
> Okay, enough with the popmusic and vehicle trivia. 
> 
> \- Up next: Fluff. John takes Thomas out for a day, and meets someone from his past he thought he'll never see again. Mary feels loved, and guilty at the same time. (Also, some bad-book bashing fun with Captain Sasscoe.)


	2. July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and John having their sweet moments and fun together, right until someone from Simcoe's past appears and reminds him of who he really is. Abraham also walks onto the proverbial stage, and stirs things up a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no real warnings for this one, if not for the diabetes-inducing sweetness and fluff, also mixed with some smut and tears, because why not. ;)  
> (Fun Fact: I had to leave the book-bashing to the next chapter, because of reasons.)  
> (Fun Fact #2: I written the bigger part of this chapter at night and in the morning, so please forgive me any mistakes. I know I shouldn't write when half-asleep, but I can't help it, my Plotbunnies seem to attack when I should sleep. :S )  
> (Fun Fact #3: The couch sex-scene alone took me nearly 7 hours to write. Yep, I'm that bad with smut. :'D Also, I apologise if it's cringy, I don't know how to fix it, just skip it. -_-;;)

Also, if any of you are interested, here's the link for the ["Soundtrack"](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0kTwJffd-LEQj8RO7paB06AB-8cVwd-C)

(It's kinda short though. :S )

* * *

 

_“Don’t walk away_

_‘Cause If you stay_

_I would even wait all night_

_Well, or until my heart explodes How long?_

_Until we_

_Find our way in the dark and out of harm_

_You can run away with me_

_You can write it on your arm_

_You can run away with me_

_Anytime you want…”_

Mary was holding on to John’s waist, as they were speeding through the short tunnel on the road. She felt wonderful, with the lush green leaves above them, casting their shadow on the asphalt, and the warm wind on her, even the speed made her feel like life is beautiful. Again, after all those years of depression and rejection. Another week has passed since their affair began… Or was it an affair at all, Mary asked herself. After their rakish night, they ended up in each other’s arms, and the next morning was something she was sure she’ll never forget. The guilt, the shame, and the happiness she felt all at once. She wondered if Abe felt the same with Anna. They rode a long way to a clearing, a little bit far from the road, and sat on the grass. They were talking, joking, laughing. Things Mary never imagined Simcoe to be capable of. “Would you come with me?” he asked, shaking Mary out of her train of thoughts. “Where?” she asked back. John shrugged. “Anywhere. If we could just run away, right now, leaving everything behind… Would you come with me?” Mary leaned to his shoulder, with her hand on his knee, staring into the vast green field, the trees and flowers, and thought yes. But then she remembered Thomas, and shook her head. “I’d never leave my son behind.” “I never said you should.” he added. Mary kissed him. She’d run away with him, even to the end of the world. That day all they had to worry about was where to go next, and where to find a secluded enough space so they won’t be seen when he placed his leather jacket onto the ground, and she lay on it, just to make things turn around a few minutes later. She wanted to take control, and he didn’t protest when she sat on his lap. She rested her head on his chest when they were done, legs shaking and shallow breathing. On the road home, she was holding on to him like he was an illusion, and could vanish into thin air any moment. Kristen was looking out for Thomas, and waited patiently for them to arrive to the little house they grew to love. At least Mary loved it. She thought, if she could go back one month in time, and had a chance to move into another place, she would decline, and choose this creaky, cramped house with no air conditioning, and a curious man as an extra. Her happy pink cloud started to dissolve, as she entered their mutual home, holding John’s hand, and saw Thomas waddling over to them. John wasn’t her husband. Nor he was the father of her child. Yet he seemed to be replacing the man who should fill that role. Her thoughts of Abraham shook her out of the sweet tranquillity she found herself in, ever since the first night she spent in John’s arms. What was she doing? She practically seduced her housemate, and she didn’t even feel that much guilt over it. She watched as her son tried to climb up to John’s broad shoulders, the victorious little smile he made when the man finally indulged him and picked him up, not even batting an eyelid when the child held on to his long hair. Mary let a smile spread across her face. To hell with Abraham Woodhull.

Simcoe was talking to the babysitter, when he felt Thomas tugging his hair, so he turned his attention to the little boy. “Can we go there?” he asked, pointing to the commercial airing on TV, of a travelling carnival. “They arrived here a few days ago” Kristen said “And their ads are everywhere. Thomas always asks if I would take him there whenever he sees this.” John looked at Mary, then back to the child. “All right, we’ll go and see that carnival tomorrow, after your mommy took you home from kindergarten.” He cast a very strict look at Thomas and continued. “But you have to behave nicely. Deal?” Thomas nodded so fast that was near-impossible for human standards. “Well, that’s all sorted.” John added with one of his usual half-smiles. He put Thomas down with a “There you go!” and paid Kristen for her work. She said her goodbyes and left the small almost-family.

That evening Mary went over to John; who was occupied with cleaning dishes, and placed her hand on his back. “Listen, it was very nice of you to promise Thomas to go to the carnival, but I can’t go tomorrow. There’s a huge load of work with a case, and I have to stay in office for a full day. I already asked Kristen to pick Thomas up from kindergarten.” “It’s all right, love.” John said. “No need for Kristen, I can pick him up and go to the carnival with him for an hour or two.” Mary’s features paled as she imagined her three years old son happily squealing on a speeding motorcycle, so she shook her head. “No, I’d rather have Kristen go and take him home.” John – understanding Mary’s concerns – smiled at her. “I’ll go by feet. The kindergarten is pretty close, we could walk. That’s good for kids too.” “Well…” Mary still wasn’t convinced, but she had to admit that she found the thought of leaving Thomas to John’s care less dreadful than before. “If it’s not a problem for you…” “I don’t have any urgent work to do, and – unlike Kristen – I can take care for Thomas for free.” he answered. Mary smiled at him and shook her head before standing to her toe-tips to kiss John. “I don’t even deserve you.” she muttered. “Don’t be ridiculous.” he said. “You deserve someone better.”

Mary was still thinking about John’s last sentence, as she was lying in his bed, with her legs around his neck. Better… than who? Abraham? Definitely. John? She couldn’t quite imagine. He cared for her, wanted her, treated her like some kind of a goddess. For all her life, she was expected to take every insult, every indignity without a word, or worse, take it like it’s natural. Then the trial and Abe’s affair with Anna came to light, and she couldn’t take it anymore. The proverbial glass was full, and even poured over. It was funny to recall what she thought of John when she first saw him. How unsympathetic he seemed, with the cold, calculating stare of his eyes, the unusual tone of his voice, and the arrogance of his words. From what Mary heard and saw about him, he seemed like a monster. Then they had to spend a month together, and here she was, making love to the same man she despised at first sight. She moved along with John’s slow and steady rhythm, running her hands through his hair, scratching his back, whispering lovely nonsenses to his mouth between two kisses. She felt like she was in heaven. Who could make her feel better than that?

The morning arrived with her still cuddling up to him, despite the ungodly heat. Mary was listening to John’s heartbeat, caressing his arm and back, counting the scars he had all over his body. She wondered how he got them, then dismissed the thought. Maybe he got them in the accident he suffered when he was a kid. Or maybe they were self-inflicted, and he wouldn’t want to talk about them anyway. Mary stroked a curiously shaped scar on John’s left thigh, then closed her arm around him in an embrace. He curled up a little bit in his sleep, reacting to her, embracing her in return.

They were woken up by a happily bouncing Thomas, who – unlike until now – was very eager to go to kindergarten. Mary hushed her son, and gave a kiss to John, who opened his eyes and chuckled. “We’ll be ready in a few minutes, Tommy.” he said. “Go and pick your cereal until we get to the kitchen, all right?” Thomas stormed out from the bedroom and went down to the kitchen, so Mary had a chance to take a shower, while John got more or less dressed and gave breakfast to the little boy. Mary could hear her son’s chatter while she combed her hair and donned her make-up. Even her reflection looked different. Her wrinkles were gone, her dark blue eyes shined, and her smile was genuine. Then she noticed the dark circles around her eyes, probably from lack of sleep, and the few small marks on her neck. Her smile widened to a grin as she remembered giving their counterparts to John. She went down to the kitchen to pick Thomas up and take him to kindergarten, saying goodbye to her lover. Before leaving her son in the nanny’s care, she informed her about the unusual plans for the day, and told her that she can let Thomas go with her housemate. “You know, it’s complicated.” Mary explained to the nanny’s inquiry. “I’m in the middle of a divorce, and I moved in that house with John, and now we…” the other woman’s all-knowing smile was enough for Mary to end the conversation and leave for her work with a newfound confidence.

The day progressed pretty fast, and John found himself jogging to the kindergarten to fetch Thomas in time. It felt good, running. Even for a short distance. He remembered when he could easily run a marathon, but he was forced to do dull and motionless work for the past few years, and he grew out of shape. Not literally of course, but he needed to catch his breath after he stopped before the building where Thomas was already stuck to the window and waved at him immediately as he spotted him. The dirty looks he got from the nanny didn’t really concern John, as he took Thomas’ hand and slowly walked the distance with him to the big parking lot and half a field near a mall, where the travelling carnival was set up. Thomas was turning his head, curious for every single thing around him, but was way too small to actually see anything. Simcoe picked the child up and made him sit on his shoulders. “Better now?” he asked, and Thomas answered with a short “Yep.” They walked around, John being Thomas’ “mighty steed”, and went wherever the little boy wanted to. The child seemed to have a good time, and the more time John spent with him, he felt the painful longing to be a part of a family. For all of his life, he had two very distinctive facets of his personality he could name. The Warrior was buried deep within him, for he wanted to forget his misdeeds and destruction, but he emerged every now and then, in the form of his ever-present sarcasm and black humour. The Poet, who weaved words and created, and saw beauty even in the darkest and macabre things, and who wasn’t afraid to care, was the entity he tried to be for the last two years. Considering his lost human connections, he failed miserably. He frowned. For once, he didn’t want to be neither a poet, nor a warrior. He wanted another label entirely. He wanted to be a Father to someone. He sighed, and put Thomas down, following him to a cage, where an old lion eyed the crowd of humans lazily. He took Thomas’ hand, not letting him too close to the animal, that reminded Simcoe too much of himself. He couldn’t help but feel familiarity, looking into those amber eyes, and seeing the dangerous beast inside the seemingly tranquil surface.

They were standing in line for a balloon booth, because Thomas really wanted one. He looked so happy when he got it – a nice, big, red one – it made John smile involuntarily. It almost ended in disaster, because the helium-filled balloon made its way up, up, and the tiny hand holding it couldn’t reach that far. John caught the ribbon in time, and kneeled down to fix the balloon’s ribbon onto the bridle of Thomas’ trousers. He saw a pair of fine legs in high heels stopping next to them. He stood up, and felt his blood freeze in his veins. “John Graves Simcoe, is that you?” the petite, dark haired woman with hazel eyes asked, and he felt the world crumble to dust around him as he uttered “Hello, Lizzy. Long-time no see.” The woman he called Lizzy smiled, but only her mouth did the reassuring gesture. “It’s been a while, indeed.” she looked at Thomas, then back at John. “I wonder who the lucky bride is.” Thomas hid behind John’s leg, and held on to his jeans. “He… Thomas is not my son; I’m just looking out for him.” he explained. “And what about you? I thought we’ll never see each other again…” Lizzy looked away. “My aunt and uncle passed away. Now I’m free to do whatever I want to.” John felt a pang in his heart. “When?” he asked. “Uncle Sam had a stroke three years after you left. Aunt Maggie passed last year.” Suddenly, hearing that the last people on Earth he could call relatives are no longer here, felt liberating. John had very ambiguous feelings. Part of him wanted to cry, and another part was just numb, and then it was like proof for him being alive. He ran away, because they didn’t want him around. Lizzy on the other hand, seemed like someone who might never smile whole-heartedly again. “Fancy a drink, Johnny?” she asked, and he glanced at the little boy holding on to him. “I’d love to, Liz.” he turned back to her. “But I can’t. I have to take Thomas home to his mum.” She nodded with an “Oh.” and turned to leave. “Wait!” John called after her. “Take my phone number at least!” Lizzy came back and they traded e-mails and phone-numbers like all those petty little people do, never to contact the other ever again. “I missed you John…” she confessed before leaving. “You kissed me, and I never stopped missing you.” He felt a knot tying his throat. “I’m sorry Elizabeth. I wish I could change it.” She flashed a sad, defeated smile at him and left. Simcoe was looking after her for a long time, even after she disappeared in the crowd. The pang he felt in his heart turned into a roaring pain. Thomas tugged his jeans and he looked down. “I’m hungry.” he stated. “Let’s get something for you to eat then.” John sighed. He was silent all the way home, and went straight to his room after they got home. He barely noticed Mary’s chatter, and excused himself at the first opportunity.

Mary didn’t ask about John’s sudden change of mood, but she was worried. Was it something she had done? Or maybe Thomas? He seemed concerned, so maybe it was about his work. She thought she’ll try to convince him to talk about what happened later, when he calmed down. They spent the rest of the evening separated, because John was utterly ignoring any and all attempts at communication. “He’s acting like a child.” Mary grumped to Aberdeen through the phone. They kept correspondence, and after the man locked himself up in his room, Mary called her long-time friend for advice. “Maybe he’s just tired.” Aberdeen added. “After all, he was out with Thomas for the whole day. Probably didn’t even hear you knocking on his door, because he was sound asleep.” Mary exhaled. “Thank you ‘Deen. You always know how to drag my over-active worry-machine back to reality.” “And how are you? Is he treating you well?” Mary smiled. “He’s treating me more than well actually. Thomas loves him almost as much as his dad.” Aberdeen stayed silent for a short while, but then she said “Abraham should be cursing himself for being so stupid. Letting you leave.” Mary laid down on the couch, and played with the old-fashioned phone’s cord. “I found my prince charming, you know. I’m lucky.” Aberdeen laughed. “Just be sure that he doesn’t keep anyone locked in the basement.”

The next morning Mary caught John working, his various books, mug and usual laptop occupying most of the space of the coffee table, his bare feet tucked under him, his green t-shirt in contrast with his white jeans. “Are you all right?” Mary asked, sitting beside him. John turned to her, his eyes red and swollen. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked tiredly. “You were up all night working?” Mary asked back, with slight umbrage. “I had to, love.” John answered on a neutral tone. “Japan is in a different time-zone than us, you know.” “And they needed that bug fixed right away, aren’t they?” Mary sounded bitter. John reached out and held her hand. “Look, I apologise for yesterday. I was very tired and I met with someone… I didn’t want to take it out on you.” Mary glanced at him. “You can make amends.” “I fully intend to do so.” he smiled. That was more like the man Mary fell for. “I have to go now.” she said. “Be back around noon, so we’ll have a lot of time for ourselves before I have to pick Thomas up from kindergarten.” He pulled her close and kissed her intensely. Mary felt better in an instant. “Have a nice day, love.” Simcoe said his goodbye, then turned back to his work.

Mary was thinking about what John said during her workday. He met with someone. Who could he meet that upset him so much? She wasn’t jealous, just worried. Something was hanging above her, like a dark cloud, and she couldn’t wait until she got back home again. John was asleep, dressed as he were, on the couch with his arm thrown across his face. He put everything away meticulously, so Mary wondered how come he’s not in his room. She sat beside him on the edge of the couch, and hesitated to wake him up. He seemed pretty tired in the morning. Mary leaned to the backrest of the couch, with her eyes on her lover. John’s other arm was resting on his torso; Mary could hold his hand if she wanted to. She felt his long legs shifting and touching her back as he moved around. As she was sitting there, she had an idea that made her blush, and also seemed like a good way to wake him up without needing to fear that he might be angry about it. Her neatly manicured hand found the buttons on the man’s trousers, and she popped them carefully, only one at a time. John didn’t seem to notice, other than crossing his legs again and turning his head even further under his elbow, he still seemed deeply in his dreams. Mary almost stopped when she finally undid his jeans with a sudden feeling of shame, but she was determined to do this. “You’re a grown woman, and a mother.” she scolded herself mentally. “Besides, you have seen it before.” Mary blushed again at the thought of her first encounter with John’s sizeable member, she even wondered for a moment if he’ll even fit into her, but they managed. She exhaled, and focused on the warm feeling that sparked in her, remembering all those noises he made. She wanted to hear them again. She began with a few unsure caresses, feeling him stiffening in her hand, before bowing her head down and taking him in. “You’re a naughty girl, you know that?” Mary heard him say suddenly. She raised her head. “You want me to stop?” she asked with an innocent look on her face. “Hell no.” came the answer and a sigh, as Mary continued her work down there. She seldom did this to Abe, and never before to John, and she compared the two in her mind involuntarily. It was always a short, boring routine with the former, and a long and twisted journey with the latter. She couldn’t decide if it was his self-control or his endurance that she admired in John, or his care about her, or ultimately, his dirty mind and creativity.

She needed some air, so she raised her head. John caressed her face, and hair, and looked at her questioningly. Mary kneeled up, and let her already destroyed bun loose, then leaned down and forward to kiss him. John unzipped Mary’s short skirt, and pulled it up, exposing her lace panties. “Shame.” he said between two kisses, and before Mary could ask what he meant, he easily ripped the thin fabric of her underwear, and threw the remains to the ground next to the couch. “Those were my favourite panties.” Mary looked at John with furrowed brow. He gave her a devilish smirk. “You’re not the only naughty one here.” he said. “Oh yeah?” she asked playfully. He slid his hand up her thigh. “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.” he answered and kissed Mary again while holding her close and sitting up with her on his lap. He undid her flower patterned blouse, sliding it down to her waist, opened her bra, and threw it next to the destroyed panty. Mary bent her head back as he was exploring her body with his kisses and caresses. He teased her until she was begging to be taken by him, making her shiver before finally entering. Mary felt him filling the unpleasant emptiness inside her, and she moved as he directed her with his hands on her hips. She leaned over to kiss him, bit his lower lip, and his left ear, inducing a hiss of pain mixed with pleasure. He retaliated with covering her neck with small kisses, sucking her skin until it changed colour. They nearly devoured each other, and she realised in that moment, when he held her close as their legs trembled, as she was looking into his arctic blue eyes; that radiated a unique warmth, that she fell in love. He rested his head on her breasts, as he was trying to catch his breath. Mary played with his silky auburn curls until both their hearts slowed to their normal rhythm.

“Well…” John said, looking up at Mary “That was a pleasant surprise.” She let him go, and stood up from the couch. “But you lied to me.” Mary stated, pulling her skirt back to its proper place. “Oh? How so?” John also re-buttoned his jeans. “You said you’re up to no good.” Mary explained, while leaning back to John, and kissed him. “But it was good.” He flashed his usual half-smile at her, as she picked her ruined underwear up from the floor and disappeared in the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged in a different dress, and sat on the couch. John also occupied the bathroom while he took a shower, so Mary had time to think. The affair between her and her housemate lasted for nearly a month now. She knew she started to develop feelings for John, and she wanted to know if he felt the same. She also wanted to know why he was so upset the day before. He sat beside her, Mary could smell the wooden fragrance of his shower-gel, as he folded his legs under him, leaning his head on his arm. Mary found the sight of this man of imposing size curling up to a small ball fascinating and cute. “Can I be honest with you?” she asked, turning to face John. “By all means!” he answered. “When we started this…” Mary was looking for words “… affair, for no better words, I thought it will be nothing more than a one-night stand, or just casual sleep-together.” John raised his brow. “And?” Mary blushed, not knowing how to say what she wanted to say. John was looking at her for a while, then he spoke. “You know; I was like you at first. I thought it will be like the song goes, no hidden catch, no strings attached…” his always cold, calculating stare seemed to vanish, as he half-closed his eyelids, still glancing at her. “But I feel those strings attaching.” Mary’s heart dropped. “Will you say it first, or want me to?” she asked. John turned his head towards her, his big eyes open, then his expression saddened. “Don’t say things you might regret, Mary.” “Then what shall I say?” he slid closer and took her hand. “Let’s keep it like it is now. We have fun, have sex and we’re just generally confused of not being officially together, but having official feelings to each other.” Mary sighed. “And what if I want more? What if casually sleeping with you is not enough?” It was John’s turn to make a heavy hearted sigh. “You’ll regret it. Trust me.” Mary shook her head, and tried to chase away her tears that welled up in her eyes. “You can’t be sure.” John held her close. “Remember I told you that I met someone yesterday?” he asked. Mary nodded. “I ruined her life.” She looked into his eyes, and saw a sadness he rarely let show. “Who was she?” John ran his fingers through Mary’s hair, swiping it from her face. “Elizabeth. My very first love. And my stepsister. We grew up together.” Mary remembered the story John told her about his parents. She hugged him, and nestled her head on his chest. “My godfather raised me after my parents died. He was married to a woman who already raised her niece. Nothing was unusual when we were little. But as we grew up, we grew together… I loved her, and she loved me. Sounds like a fairy tale, isn’t it?” he flashed a bitter smile. “Only it wasn’t a fairy tale. Despite not being related, officially we were brother and sister. When our parents found out…” he looked down to Mary, and continued while keeping eye contact with her. “They cast me out. Treated me like some kind of a freak. She didn’t have it better either.” Mary caressed his face. “That’s horrible.” “That’s natural. People react badly to things not fitting into their morals.” His expressionless tone made Mary’s heart sink. “I’m sorry, John.” “Don’t be.” he shrugged. “I left them when I turned 18. Wasn’t too close with them until then either… And now I met Lizzy, and she told me they’re dead.” Mary understood his actions now. She could only imagine what he’s going through, but she wanted him to know that he doesn’t have to fight this war alone. “You know that you can’t control how you feel…” she said. “You’re sweet, but it’s not the point.” he inserted. “Thing is, I don’t even know what to feel.” she leaned back, nestling to his body, listening to his heartbeat, while she was sure that hers will break. “I’m so sorry…” she muttered. “Sorry that you were never really loved, and it turned you into a cold and distant man.” He chuckled. “I do love you, Mary. Very much. And Thomas too.” The mentioning of her son woke Mary up from her bittersweet tranquillity. “Oh gosh! I have to go and bring Thomas home!” she exclaimed, and rose to her feet. John also stood up. “Would you mind if I accompany you?” Mary stopped with getting her shoes on, and smiled. “I’d be happy to have you come along.”

They went to the kindergarten by feet, hand in hand. The sun was still up, though its rays weren’t scorching the ground and the pretty pair of redheads. Mary felt the dark cloud that was hanging above her slowly going away. John confessed that he loved her. That was all that she needed. Even if he never let her say those three words to him, even if he acted like he was the coldest and cruellest person on Earth. They felt like a family, the three of them. Mary walked the whole distance with a smile on her face, that only disappeared when the nanny informed her that Thomas was taken home by his father. “Mr. Woodhull came and took him away at the usual time.” she said. “I did find it a bit strange, since you mentioned that now the two of you are no longer together, and…” she glanced at John, then back to Mary, who barely heard the whole thing. She just stood there, while John interrogated the staff of the circumstances of Thomas’ departure, and if it indeed was Abraham Woodhull, who took the boy with him. “We have to go home, love.” Mary heard John’s voice, but was unable to move. “We have to go. Mary!” he shook her, and she looked up at him and nodded. John shepherded her out from the kindergarten and the sight of the gathered around staff. Mary was numb, and she held herself together until the house’s door locked behind them. She collapsed to the sofa and folded her arms around herself, like she was afraid that she’ll fall apart. Her phone appeared in front of her eyes, and John’s hand. She looked up. “Better make a call.” he suggested, and sat beside Mary, as she searched for Abe’s number and pressed “call”. She put it on speaker, on John’s suggestion. When the familiar voice at the other end of the line said “Hello”, Mary barely could hold back her tears of frustration. “Abraham, is Thomas with you?” she asked. “No, he’s with his grandfather.” came the casual answer. “I want you to bring him home to me, now.” Mary demanded. “Well, I’m sure you know that, but as long as there isn’t a warrant keeping him away from me, he’s my son too.” Abraham answered coldly. Mary looked at John, then back at her phone. “Why are you doing this to me?” her voice lost confidence, on contrary, Abraham’s was as firm as concrete. “Ask your new boyfriend.” John raised his brow. “What does he have to do with this?” Mary asked desperately. “So he didn’t tell you a lot about himself, did he?” “Abe, I don’t know what are you talking about, but please, I beg you to give Thomas back to me.” Mary was close to crying. “Sorry Mary. But as long as Simcoe is around, our son is not safe. He’ll stay here with me. If you want to talk with him, just call. Bye.” And with that, he hung up. Mary felt John’s arms around herself, as she bursted into tears. He tried to hush her, caressed her back, and held her close until she was able to stop crying. “That wanker just gave me one more reason to kick his arse back to last year.” John said, wiping away Mary’s tears. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Lyrics are from My Chemical Romance's "Summertime".  
> \- "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good"... Well, I just had to include a Harry Potter quote. XD 
> 
> \- Up next: The dream is turning into a nightmare. Brace your feels, because they will hurt.


	3. August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham provides some information to Mary about the man she shares her house and bed with, and also gives her an ultimatum. This will evetually lead her relationship with John into a downward spiral of mutual hurt and mistrust, right until the bitter end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start, I'd like to address some trigger warnings. The following chapter will contain various cursewords, mentions of drug addiction, alcohol addiction, use and abuse, violence, and will touch the topic of trust issues and criminal activities. It will have a sad ending. (Also, Simcoe's past differs greatly from both history and the tv-show in this narrative, so I'm truly sorry if it is off-putting to someone, but it was necessary.)

_“…Just tonight I will stay_

_And we’ll throw it all away_

_When the light hits your eyes_

_It’s telling me I’m right_

_And if I, I am through_

_And it’s all because of you_

_Just tonight, just tonight_

_Do you understand who I am_

_Do you want to know?_

_Can you really see through me now;_

_I’m about to go_

_Just tonight I won’t leave_

_And I’ll lie and you’ll believe_

_Just tonight I will see_

_And it’s all because of me_

_Just tonight…”_

 

The following week was a living nightmare for Mary. She called Abraham every day, reasoning, demanding, begging and crying, but he didn’t bend to her wish. Slowly, July turned to August, and Mary got used to the empty kids’ room, and the silence. She sought comfort in John’s arms, but found very little, and he saw it. He planned to arrange a meeting with Woodhull, and convince him – by force if he must – that a child’s place is with his mother. Despite all the pain and suffering he saw and caused, he hated to see Mary cry, and being unable to do anything about it. All he could do to help ease her distress, was to hold her, and tell her that he’s there for her. He remembered saying exactly the same words to someone else, long ago. “I’m here, if you need me.” Two weeks after the phone call and the start of the ordeal, when Mary was sleeping on the couch curled up next to him, being exhausted by her work and the stress their dispute with Abraham has put her under, John heard a knock on the front door. Carefully, not to wake her up, he went to see who’s outside. He saw no other than the world’s worst corporate spy and amateur cabbage farmer in person. “Is Mary here?” he asked. “I’d like to talk with her.” Simcoe’s usual, slightly threatening half-smile appeared on his face, as he stepped outside and leaned to the doorframe, blocking entrance. “Sorry, but Mary isn’t here at the moment.” he chirped. “Whatever you want to tell her, have to wait, or you could just discuss it with me, and I’ll forward your message to her when she’s back.” Abraham backed away a few steps. “I have no business with you.” John laughed. “Oh, no mate, the moment you messed with Mary, it became my business too.” He said with a derisive expression on his face. “I always knew that you’re a sly little ferret, but to do this to the woman you supposed to love...” he shook his head. “You sank to a new level in my eyes.” Abe cast a flat look at Simcoe. “Are you done?” The taller man looked down on the smaller like the cat looks at the mouse before eating it. “You wish.” he said. “I’m not done with you, and you better be sure that I'll be there for Mary, and we’ll fight until we get Thomas back from you.” “Yeah well, good luck with that.” Woodhull commented. “Better get a lawyer.” John’s sneer got even more expressed. “Starting a war with me is unwise. You should know that.” Abe’s features also turned into a sarcastic smile. “I know your plans always backfire on you, Simcoe.” He turned around and left with a “Tell Mary I was looking for her!”. John hit the wall next to the door. And he hit it again, just to be sure. He closed the door and went back to check on Mary, who was sitting on the couch, wiping her eyes. “Who were you talking to?” she asked, biting back a yawn. “Nobody of importance, love.” John answered, and sat beside her. Mary nestled to him and clang onto him until she fell asleep again. In her dream, they were sitting like that, but with Thomas and a few smaller, auburn haired children playing on the floor. She was woken up by John caressing her face. “Wakey-wakey. You won’t be able to sleep at night.” Mary took his hand and looked up at his face. “What if I don’t want to sleep tonight?” she mumbled. “Oh, then what do you want to do?” he asked playfully. Mary hummed, while she noticed the bruises on John’s hand. “I don’t know… You maybe?” He laughed. “Can’t say I object.”

 

They were lying entwined in bed later that night, John asleep, Mary awake, holding onto his body and listening to his heartbeat. It became her habit, and his large frame filled her with a sense of safety. She almost drifted off to dreamland, when she heard him mumble something, then silence. Mary shrugged it off as being nothing serious. Later she woke up hearing a sound of distress, and she felt a hard push. She sat up and saw John shivering and shaking, sweat trailing down from his body. He looked like a cornered predator. “Are you all right?” Mary asked, and he turned to her with the same terrified expression. His breathing was shallow, but he slowly regained control of it. “It was only a bad dream.” Mary reached out and caressed his back. It was cold, despite the warm night. “I’m… I’m sorry.” he muttered and ran to the bathroom. Mary felt like she had enough sleep for the night, so she took John’s wine-red dressing-gown, and went over to see how he’s doing.

The cold water flowing from the tap calmed his thoughts somehow. He was still under the effects of his nightmare, but as he looked into the mirror, and washed his face, he felt the heat behind his eyes cool down, and the harrowing pictures fade into the dark depths of his mind. He heard a low knock, and Mary entered, wearing his red robe, with slight concern on her features. “Do you feel better?” she asked, gently caressing his face and swiping stray locks of hair away. He nodded. “How often do you have these nightmares?” Mary asked, remembering John sleeping badly and tossing and turning every other night. “I’m fine.” he trilled, but his voice sounded fake. Mary hugged him. “No, you’re not.” she said. “It’s all right, love.” John hugged her back. “No need to worry about it.” She let go of him, but still held his hand. “Come back to bed.” she asked, and he obeyed, followed her back, and sat beside her. “I always tell a tale to Thomas, if he has a bad dream.” Mary said, suddenly feeling sad. John chuckled, and wrapped his arm around her. “And what do you want to do? Lull me back to sleep?” Mary leaned to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “Or maybe we can talk. I’m not in the mood for telling a story. Or singing.” John smiled at her. “I can relate to that. I once had the misfortune of having to sing. Even the rain began to fall.” Mary laughed. “I just realised that I know very little about you.” she said, caressing John’s arm. “I already told you about my past. There’s nothing more to tell.” he answered on a cold tone. “I know, and I don’t necessarily mean your past.” Mary continued. “The nightmares, your troubles, your fears, dreams…” He wiped a few locks of her hair away from her face. “I have nightmares since I was ten. I loved, lost, hated and got rejected. And now I’m here, with a woman I can’t comprehend what she sees in me.” Mary nestled closer to him, she could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of the robe. “When I look at you, I see sadness. Anger. And also a longing for love stronger than I ever seen in anyone.” she held his face in her hand, looking into his glacier-blue eyes, that seemed like liquid silver in the moonlight. “You’re the cutest guy I’ve ever met, John. The people who failed to see your value might be just blind.” It took some serious self-control on his part not to hold her in a bone crushing embrace, and break out in tears. There were a lot of skeletons in his closet, things he never wanted to remember or talk about ever again, and he knew if she’d know even one of those secrets, she would despise and fear him, just like the rest of the people he came in contact with. He was toxic, a neurotic mess, as he told Hewlett once, in one of his weak moments. He just reached out, and held her face to lean down and kiss her. Gently, like the summer breeze. He saw that little warm spark of love in her eyes that made him turn into a nervous mess, whenever she looked at him, or touched him. No one ever had any idea how insecure he was, because he learned to hide it very well, yet Mary seemed to always know what to say to make his fears and doubts disappear. He could move mountains, or battle a thousand foes if she would so require him to do.

Mary woke up next morning to the sounds of birds chirping, and her alarm buzzing, and with a feeling of happiness that made her smile. She saw John sleeping next to her, and it made her remember all those mornings she was waking up alone, without even a note of where her then-significant other is. She caressed John’s face, and got up, still wearing his wine-red robe, and went out to the bathroom and got ready for work. Later that day, she got a call on her phone. It was from Abraham. “What is it?” she asked her soon-to-be-ex angrily. “Mary, can we talk in person? Just for an hour or so. It’s important.” Mary frowned, but of course, Abe couldn’t see it. “Well, you could come over and talk to me any time you wanted, it’s not like I’m keeping you away.” There was a short pause on the other end of the line, then Abe said “Oh, so he didn’t tell you.” Mary was confused. “Tell me what?” Abe sounded concerned. “I was over at your house yesterday, but Simcoe wouldn’t let me talk with you. Said you weren’t home and all that…” Mary was shocked. She even remembered John saying he wasn’t talking to anyone important. Then again, Abe was definitely not someone Simcoe would qualify as “important”. His behaviour still made Mary question a lot about him. “All right then, let’s meet at the coffee shop near your workplace at three o’clock.” Abe hesitated, then said. “Deal. But make it three thirty, I have to pick up something I want to show you.” Mary agreed, then she hung up. She waited for her shift to be over. The dark cloud she felt hanging above her the day Thomas was taken away by his father, seemed to return. She hurried to the small, friendly coffee-shop, a few streets away from the high, all glass and iron building where Abraham worked. As Mary saw him approach, she noticed how different he was when he was at work from the casual, boyish look he had with his worn leather jacket and grey beanie he always wore when the weather turned colder. Abe held a thick file in his hand, and he opened the door with his shoulder, slaloming his way to Mary’s table. “I hope I’m not late.” he said. Mary glanced at her watch. It was barely quarter past three, when he arrived. “No, actually, I came too early.” she added on a neutral tone. “Look, I don’t want to intrude in your life.” Abraham said “But you have to end your little affair with Simcoe.” Mary scoffed. “Is that so? Well, you really shouldn’t waste your time, and mine either. I love John, and unlike you, he cares about me.” Abe let out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you sure? Because he really doesn’t like to share important information with you. And he’s really not the man you know him to be.” Mary’s sea-blue eyes flashed threateningly. Abe slid the file over to her. “Don’t believe me? Fine. I’m sure you’ll change your mind after reading everything in this.” Mary hesitated to open the folder, and looked at Abraham. “What is this?” she asked. “Important information your new beau forgot to tell you, before inviting you to some bedlympics.” Abe answered. Mary wanted to tell him a burning comeback, but then she just rolled her eyes and opened the file. The first thing she saw was a mugshot of a much younger, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old John Graves Simcoe, followed by a report on aggressive behaviour, violent tendencies and multiple parents pressing charges against him for assaulting their children. There was another photo of a boy who had his nose broken and his face severely injured. The report was followed by a letter from the high-school’s principal, explaining to a certain Samuel Graves, that his stepson was expelled from the establishment for behavioural issues and refusal of cooperation with the school’s psychiatrist. Mary had her suspicion about John being a wild kid, biker and all, so his high-school misdeeds didn’t shock her that much. It only took her another page, to change that. The picture on top of the report wasn’t John’s this time, but a young, dark haired girl’s, who had bruises all over her arms and on her face, and various medical examinations followed, debating if she was or wasn’t forced to have sex with her stepbrother. Mary felt nauseous, especially because she remembered when John talked about his stepsister to her. Was he lying? The Elizabeth he was telling the story of, seemed different from the frightened, traumatised young girl on the picture. It was enough for her to feel seriously disenchanted by her lover, but Abraham encouraged her to turn another page. “That’s where the really juicy stuff is” he said with a sneer. Mary turned the page, and almost threw up. It was a police report of two dead bodies, both petty criminals, brutally beaten and cut to shreds. The date was approximately three years after the Elizabeth case. John was wanted in the UK, and so it seemed he had to take his leave, and he relocated to the US, and got into the organized crime. Mary read through countless police reports on severely beaten, maimed, tortured and murdered individuals, some of them not even part of any gang. They just were at the wrong place at the wrong time. It seemed that the killing spree ended somewhere around five years ago, when John suddenly went off-radar. _“…And that’s why I had to cross the Canadian border, really quickly.”_ Mary heard John’s voice in her head, but this time his story not nearly seemed funny or entertaining, but terrifying. The man Mary was sharing her life with, was a convicted murderer, wanted in two countries. She was devastated, and Abraham could very well see it on her face, as she handed the document back to him. “Why did you show me this?” she asked, her voice deceivingly calm. Abraham sighed, and looked at Mary’s hand, where her wedding ring should be, but just like him, she left that little piece of metal at home. “Mary, I know our marriage is dust. It was dust two and a half years ago.” he looked very serious. “And believe me when I say that I don’t give a rat’s ass who are you sleeping with. But I don’t want Thomas or you to get hurt. That’s why I took him away. Not because I wanted to upset you.”

 Mary was still in shock looking out the window of the taxi, that took her home. Abe told her a lot about Simcoe she didn’t know… or even suspected. The man was truly a monster. And as much as she didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t deny the evidence that was presented to her. The pictures of mangled human remains will haunt her ‘till the day she dies, she was sure about that. And the look on that poor girl’s face. Disappointment, sadness, despair… Same what Mary felt now. She fished her phone out, and called Aberdeen. Her friend picked up the phone, and Mary asked her if she could stay at her place for the night. She had no intention to return to that damned house with a madman. Luckily for her, Aberdeen agreed, but she was greatly concerned about Mary’s condition. “I’ll tell you in person, it’s not for phone…” she said, biting back her tears. After she hung up, she asked the driver to take her to a new address, then she just stared at John’s picture and phone number for a long while before pressing “call”. She felt a knot forming in her throat and the cold hand of terror grasping her heart as his voice rang on the other end of the line. “Mary, where are you? Is everything all right?” he asked. She suddenly heard it differently. Just a day ago, she would take it as a sign of him being worried about her. Now she felt like he’s just asking to get information he will use against her. “I’m fine… John. I just wanted to tell you that I won’t be coming home tonight. I’ll stay at a friend’s. You know… Watching chick flicks and talk about girl stuff.” she explained, while hoping her voice won’t betray her. John was silent for a moment, then he asked “Are you all right, Mary? You’re crying.” she was, but she couldn’t tell him of all people why. “I’m fine. I just need some me-time.” he hummed, then sighed. “All right then. Have fun, love. See you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

On the following days, John was wondering what happened to Mary. When she came home, she was cold and distant, like they were back at day one. She even moved back to her own bedroom, and actively avoided intimate contact with John. He always knew if something was wrong, so he tried his best to dig deeper into the matter, but Mary refused to talk. She didn’t really appreciate any of his efforts to brighten her mood or ease her distress. One day John returned from his usual morning run with a few wild flowers he found next to the road. He went over to Mary, and hugged her from behind. Well, the reaction was the opposite of what he expected. She immediately broke away from his arms. “I brought these for you…” he said, handing over the bunch of yellow flowers. “What…?” Mary seemed confused and frightened. “Dandelions…” John explained, furrowing his brow. Mary pressed a short “Thanks” and took the flowers, but dropped them when she touched John’s hand. He kneeled down and picked them up from the ground. “You know, my mum called me Dandelion when I was little.” he commented, as he raised, but this time he didn’t reach out to give the flowers to her. “Maybe she meant that you’re like weed.” Mary said aridly. She regretted it immediately, as the small bouquet of flowers landed in the trash bin next to her. “Forgive me, for existing, I swear it will never happen again!” John said sarcastically, then left. Mary locked herself in her room, crying in frustration and anguish. She felt her heart breaking to million little pieces.

And so did John. He was sitting on the couch, curled up into a ball of disappointment and despair. He wanted to know what went wrong, but he couldn’t recall if he did or said something that upset Mary so much. Thinking just made him even more angry and made him feel helpless, so he got up and went out. The warm August night and the crickets chirping would stir some emotions in him, if it would be a few days earlier. John wanted to clear his head, so he put his earphones and music on, wandering the streets like he did when he had nowhere to go.

_“You’re just a sad song with nothing to say_

_About a life long wait for a hospital stay_

_Well, if you think that I’m wrong_

_This never meant nothing to you…”_

He was pretty far away from the house when he got a call. It was an ungodly late hour, so he thought it must be Mary, but he had to be disappointed. Akinbode called him, apologising for the late call, and explaining to John that they had to get rid of Mercy, because Cicero turned out to be allergic to cat fur. “We gave her to the local animal shelter. Sorry man, I wish we could keep her, but…” John just hung up without even saying anything. He wanted the earth to open and swallow him, so he could be done with this nightmare. Is this why he was supposed to let his guard down? Is this supposed to be why he should take his armour off? Is this why he supposed to be “nice”? Whatever he did, he always ended up being rejected and alone. What does it matter then?

Days went by in cold silence and polite resentment. They avoided each other as much as they could, given the close living space they shared, only meeting when Mary left for work and when she came home. John started to make a plan. He had enough of this, and he wanted Mary to confess what her problem is with him. He knew if someone lied to him, and her silence and half-assed excuses were worse if she was lying. There was no point in being nice anymore, he decided. She was afraid of him, he could see that clearly, so no amount of niceness would change that. Mary came home later than usual that day, and she was immediately cornered by John. “I made you a cup of tea.” he said on a casual tone. “I… Thank you, but…” Mary stuttered, and he delivered the first blow. “It’s not poisoned; you can drink it. Or you want me to taste it first, just to be sure?” she muttered something he paid no attention to. “I was trying to be kind with you love, but honestly, I grew tired of this shite. Just tell me what the fuck is wrong? You’re acting like I’ve done a crime against humanity, for a whole bloody week now.” Mary was shocked and terrified from all the rage and tension his voice and body language reflected. The man was on the edge, and could snap any time. “John… Just calm down!” she tried to ease the situation, but he wanted none of it. “Don’t tell me to calm down, birdie!” his voice was still the usual high-pitched, soft sound, only it had a dark and threatening undertone. “John, you scare me!” Mary backed away from him. “Am I now?” he sneered. “Well, at least now you have a reason to be scared.” He casually took two steps and pinned Mary to the wall. “So?” he sang on his lilted, yet ice-cold tone “I’m all ears.” Mary was trembling as he towered over her, both hands on the wall, next to her head. Janus has shown his other face, and she knew she had to be careful around this one. “All right. Let’s talk this over.” she said mustering all the cool she could. “Abraham called me last week, and wanted to meet with me. To settle things.” John still stood there like a statue. “Go on.” he trilled. “He showed me something. And told me things… About you.” John let out a bitter laughter. “Is that so? Pray tell me, what did he tell you about me?” Mary swallowed a knot in her throat. “I saw police reports. And he told me what you did to your sister…” She was waiting for the monster to lash out, but instead he just kept on staring at her with mixed fury and disbelief. “And you weren’t going to tell me about it? I can spot a lie, Mary. Your story of staying with a friend was bollocks, and I knew it.”

She looked him in the eye, but saw a stranger. A threatening, cold and unfamiliar man. Not the one she shared the best part of summer with, but the same ruthless, empty shell of a human being she saw at her ex-husband’s trial. “I’m sorry.” she muttered. “No, you’re not.” He said cheerfully, then picked Mary’s phone up, and kept her pinned to the wall effortlessly, despite her rather forceful attempts to get the device back from him. He called Abraham, and put him on speaker. “Now you’ll sorry. For everything.” he grinned at her, then turned back to the ringing phone. Abe picked up. “Hello, Mary.” “Hello, Dickbag.” Simcoe sneered. Abraham was silent, probably shocked by hearing his voice instead of his ex-wife’s. “Where’s Mary? Is she okay?” came the question a few moments later. Simcoe shepherded Mary closer to his side and held her with one arm, and put the phone closer to her. “I’m here, Abe. Don’t worry.” she said, and hoped her voice won’t betray her. She was completely terrified of John. “What did he do to you?” came the next question. “Nothing yet, but let’s just leave Mary alone for a second.” Simcoe inserted. “I heard you provided her with some delicious details of my private life. May I ask how did you get your dirty little hands on that information?” Abe sounded confident. “You’re not the only one who can dig up dirt, Simcoe.” “Oh, you’re such a dirty little weasel, Woodhull.” there was a short pause before Abraham speaking again. “If you hurt Mary…” “Whoa, whoa, stop it right there, mate!” Simcoe interrupted. “I’m not the monster you painted me to be.” “Let me talk with Mary.” Abe demanded. “Isn’t it a tad too late to be feeling too attached to her?” Simcoe asked, but he handed the phone over to Mary. “I’m here, Abe.” she said. “John didn’t hurt me.” _yet._ – she thought. “Listen, what I showed you is true. It’s all authentic material. I have a friend working for the police, and as soon as I mentioned your… housemate’s name, he gave me those reports. I’m worried about you, and…” Mary wiped her eyes and interrupted. “It’s all fine, Abraham. You don’t have to worry about me.” Simcoe’s sarcastic cackle startled her. “Come on, Mary. Let him finish! I want to hear your ex-husband lie. One. Last. Time.” Abe continued. “Mary, you have to leave! He will hurt you, like he did with the other girl.” Before Mary could answer, John clapped his hands slowly and cynically. “So much concern. So convincing, even I believed you. I think you should try acting, Woodhull. Maybe you’d be better at it than being a husband.” Mary looked at him, then back at the phone. “You know, it’s funny you say you’re so worried about Mary.” Simcoe mused. “As long as she was with you, you didn’t give a damn about her well-being and wishes, kept on fucking your high-school sweetheart, but now, when she finds someone new, and she’s happy, your first thing is digging up dirt on the bloke. You’re a bigger spunktrumpet than I thought.” Mary switched from speaker, and held her phone to her ear. “It’s all right, Abe. I’m fine.” she gestured for John to move away, and much to her surprise, he held his hands up, and moved away from her. Mary went out from the house quickly. “Listen, I can’t say I don’t believe you, Abe.” she commented. “But I can’t leave John just yet, maybe I can sort things out with him...” Abraham was silent, but then he took a deep breath and spoke. “Mary, I will give Thomas back to you.” She dropped her jaw. “What?” Mary asked. “I said I will let you take care of Thomas without going through a long and tedious trial. The divorce will be enough stress for him. But I have one condition.” Mary had a suspicion about the nature of that condition, but she wanted her ex to say it. “I’m listening.” Abe cleared his throat and declared. “Leave Simcoe.” Mary felt she won’t have a hard decision, but then she was so confused about John. “Leave him, and you’ll get your son back.” Abe continued. “But if you choose him, I will make sure you’ll never see Thomas again.”

Mary went back to the house after she hung up. She felt like a mess, and she didn’t know what to do. She sat down on the couch, listening to the slow rumbles of the coming storm outside. Her thoughts were distracted by a familiar sing-song voice. “Fancy a story, Mary?” John asked, not even looking at her. “Because I have one for you. Better than your ex-husband’s even.” Mary turned to face him, the light of the single, lavender scented candle on the coffee table cast a silver gleam in his eyes. “What do you want, John?” she asked. She was tired of his mind games, and Abraham’s too. “Well, you know what our dear cabbage-loving former lawman told you. But I want you to know my version too. Just to see things clear.” Mary hung her head. “Is there anything you could say that justifies what you had done?” she asked. Simcoe sat down on the ground, folding his legs up to his chest, and resting his head on his knees, crossing his arms before his shins. “I don’t want to justify my past behaviour.” he stated. “I just want you, to know both sides of the story.” Mary didn’t believe him. Why would she? He was a murderer, a sick and twisted criminal of the worst kind. Then again, Mary was curious. “All right then, tell me your story.” she leaned back on the couch casually. The thunderstorm began to rage outside, splashing rain on the windows. “You probably read my file, and I already told you about my parents and my foster parents.” he said. Mary remembered what Abe said about Simcoe and his stepsister, but she tried not to frown. “It was true.” John looked her in the eye, with a firm expression. “Except for one thing: I never, _never_ hurt Elizabeth. Her aunt made it up after I ran away, to save face.” he shook his head. “I loved her, and she loved me, bless her soul. But it wasn’t meant to be.” Mary couldn’t believe a word he said, yet the way he said them planted a seed of doubt about what Abe had told her. “Right, at least you could cross being a rapist from your list of crimes. Congrats.” she said sarcastically. John didn’t even flinch at the insult, just continued to speak. “I started to work on a ship, and sailed far and wide for a few months, then quit after I got to the US, and lived out on the streets of New York for another. I got to know the gangs there, and that’s how I met _them._ ” He slightly shivered at the memory, so it made Mary even more curious. “Who?” she asked with faked disinterest. John held his legs even tighter, as the memories came out from the darkest depths of his mind, but he kept on telling the tale. “I do not wish to utter their names in fear of summoning them, so I will call them Bonny and Clyde.” he said. “They lead the gang I was occasionally doing some jobs for food and shelter.” He turned his head to the candle, watching the flickering little flame. “I still don’t know what they saw in me, but they took me in. They said they needed someone like me.” He swallowed the knot that started to tie his throat up. “One night, they gave me some pills, told me they’ll help me relax and sleep, which they indeed helped with. You probably know about my nightmares and my sleep problems.” Mary nodded. That one thing was true, as far as she could tell. “I don’t have them that frequently now, than I had back then.” John added. “But – as you probably figured out by now – I got addicted. I couldn’t sleep without them, and the nightmares were more vivid.” He shook his head. “They also said that they needed me as their weapon. So they trained me. Taught me a few tricks… You know why I prefer serrated blades?” Mary shuddered. The expressionless look in John’s eyes made her uncomfortable. “You just stab, twist the blade, and the notches tear the insides right out. It’s effective, and frightening.” Mary was already frightened. “You’re sick.” “You’re maybe right.” he flashed a smile at her, but it was more like the menacing snarl of a wolf. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. After all I’ve been through, anyone would lose the plot.” he paused, and kept staring at the flickering light of the candle, lost in his memories. Mary felt disgusted, disappointed and heartbroken. Yet she felt the remains of the old connection with the man sitting in front of her. “Go on.” she said, tearing John out from his dark thoughts. “There’s… Not much left to tell, I’m afraid.” he said. “I did what they ordered me to do, and I got my peaceful night’s sleep in return. I’m not proud of that.” he swallowed, and his neutral tone broke, and a sad, regretful undertone mixed into it. “I did a lot of things I wouldn’t do today. If I had the chance to change the person I was, I would. But please, consider this: I was an 18 years old drug addict, with nowhere to go, and no one to rely on. Bonnie and Clyde became my family, and more...” He lowered his gaze, as a slight blush coloured his cheeks, and a frown occupied his features. “I never spoke about this to anyone before, but you…” Mary felt the hard surface of her determination crumbling. John didn’t even look at her, as he continued. “Of all the shameful things I had done in this part of my life, I feel the most ashamed of becoming their pet.” Mary sighed, and John misunderstood it for being irritated. “Did this upset you?” he asked without any emotion in his voice. “Of course it did.” Mary answered. “These people… What do you mean you were their pet?” She had her suspicion, but she wanted him to say it. “They used me.” John answered. “I killed for them, tortured and maimed people for them, for what they gave me. And they used me… As their weapon, and as their… plaything…” He didn’t want to remember, but he wanted Mary to understand him. “It was nothing like what we had, no. There was nothing romantic about it. I was only a nice, fresh piece of ass for them.” All the rage and despair his voice carried was enough for Mary to decide that he’s telling the truth. “I see you don’t believe a word I say…” John spoke again after a short pause. “I just have a hard time imagining you as a victim of abuse.” she said, but in reality, she could quite well imagine that happening to a young and – though definitely not naïve – inexperienced John Simcoe. “Why didn’t you leave when you had the chance?” she asked judgingly. John smiled bitterly at her. “It’s never that simple. You know, if you take a frog, and throw it into a pot of boiling water, the frog jumps out and escapes. If you take the frog and put it into the pot, and slowly raise the temperature to the point of boiling the water, the frog stays until it dies. That’s how it works. I was the frog, the stupid, arrogant little frog, who thought he will earn the respect and love of his peers… But the water was boiling, and I was being cooked alive.” he shuddered again as the memories came back to haunt him. The shame, the humiliation, and the thrill of killing. The worst part was that he actually liked it. “I understand if you want to leave.” he said. “But can I ask you something?” Mary was already full of questions herself, but she nodded. John stood up, and took a few, unsure steps towards Mary. She flinched. John stopped where he was and leaned to the wall instead of sitting next to her. “Do you have so little faith in me?” he asked gently, turning back into the man Mary became familiar with. “Do you really think I’m beyond redemption?” Mary couldn’t help but question herself. “I don’t know John.” she confessed. “What do you want me to say? Can you imagine how it feels like, when you love someone then they turn out to be convicted criminals? Murderers? How can you expect me to stay with you, to trust you after what I’ve learned about you?” The torment on his features were genuine, Mary could tell that. “I’ve changed.” he said, barely more than a whisper. “If I ever wanted to hurt you, or Thomas – which I must accentuate, never even crossed my mind – I could do it a thousand times over. You lived with me for months, Mary. I not once harmed you or your child… Or did I?” he was telling the truth, but she couldn’t help but feel emptiness in the place of love and desire she had towards the man in front of her. She slowly shook her head. She could see the world that’s being shattered into pieces inside him. “I’m sorry John.” she said. “It’s over. Forgive me, but I just want my son back, and I want to go someplace safe with him. And it’s not safe with you.” His expression was harrowingly sad, and at the same time accepting. “I guess you wouldn’t change your mind even if I’d drop to my knees and begged you to give me a chance, so I think it’s better this way.” he said after a long and awkward pause. Mary watched the flickering flame of the scented candle drown and die in its own melted wax, just like their fleeting summer love did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hush, it's okay, it's over now. Well... Not really, there's an epilogue. And don't worry, we didn't see the last of Mary in this fic's universe. She'll be appearing in "Haywire" later, and she and John will have a sort-of friendly relationship, even after all they've been through together. (Or maybe because of it.)  
> \- "Lose the plot" - slang for going insane.  
> \- "spunktrumpet" - slang for erm... Manbits. Also used for someone, who's an absolute wanker.  
> \- Lyric quotes are from The Pretty Reckless' "Just Tonight", and My Chemical Romance's "Disenchanted" respectively.


	4. Epilogue: September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wondering where did he go wrong, and how did he see the whole summer fling looking back after it was over. Also, a surprise cameo by no other than Major Cinnamon Roll himself. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to ease the sad with some sass and tying this side-fic to the main one with this last chapter. Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, for the love and everything. <3 You're the reason I'm still here. ;)

[Sometimes, love just ain't enough. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yX9aASk3Df0)It’s not fun to lay alone in bed, staring at the ceiling in the pitch black room, thinking when will things change for the better. Mary left two days after our little heart-to-heart regarding my past life and prison record. I didn’t blame her. It felt like my heart was torn out from my chest and burned, but I didn’t blame her. She did what was best for her child, and even if I don’t have children of my own – at this rate, I may never will – I could understand her motives. She chose her son over me. Can anyone blame a mother for that?

But then again. I felt the place where my heart used to be aching. My thoughts kept going back like a broken record. “You’re not enough. You’re never enough. No matter what you do, your past always will come back to bite you.” I lost even my bloody cat. I was now utterly Merciless, both literally and figuratively. My facial expressions once again pretended to be non-existent, and I felt more and more out of place alone in the house. Mary came back once in a while to pack her things. I offered her my help, but obviously, she declined. So I went out of her way, and was staring at the empty place in the bed next to me, where she used to sleep, only days ago. I did this for a while, then turned on my back to watch the ceiling. And here I am, lost on my train of thoughts. The last day, when Mary came for the last little trinkets and this-and-that, I stopped her, and talked with her for one last time. I wanted her to know that I’m not mad at her. I wanted her to know I really loved her. I meant it from the darkest depth of my black little heart. Or rather the black hole where my heart should be. I wanted her to know that what happened between us wasn’t a lie. So I told her. I saw her face softening, and her eyes had a strange gleam in them. Tears, maybe? “I hope someday you’ll find someone, who will stay beside you.” she told me. She touched my shoulder, and made me feel that ache again. Why do black holes ache? I have to ask a science person about that. “I’m sorry John. Really sorry.” she said. And then she hugged me. Never in my life was it harder for me to dig my weaknesses – sorry, you people call them feelings – deep in my mind. If I didn’t, I would probably burst out in an ugly, ugly crying like a toddler. “Jenga!” I shouted just to say something. Mary raised her head and made a confused face. “Why did you say that?” I looked at her, and brushed the back of my neck with one of my hands. “Well, isn’t that what people shout when everything’s falling apart?” I asked. She bursted out ugly crying. Why is it always this way? I say something, a woman bursts out ugly crying, and my shirt gets wet. Also I hug her, tell her I’m here, and willing to console her if she so requires, then she leaves. They always leave. I walked Mary to her cherry coloured car, and helped her with the last of her boxes and bags. Just like on day one. “This is goodbye.” I heard her say. “I guess so.” I replied. “Take care, and… I hope you’ll find the one for you some day.” She held my hand. And I leaned down and kissed her. Much to my surprise, she didn’t back away or slapped me or anything. It was the most bittersweet kiss I ever got. Not even the one from Anna was this harrowing. “Goodbye, Mary.” I rasped after we separated. “Travel safe!” She smiled and got into that rolling coffin of hers, to drive out from my life, and take the last rays of sunshine and warmth with her. I stood in the front yard for a long time, pretending that it’s raining.

Mr. Appleby was most disappointed when I too broke the contract with him, on terms of not being able to support the house on my own. And It wasn’t even a lie, sadly my salary wasn’t enough to pay the rent for it. So I packed my bags, filled my boxes, and before I left the dream-turned-nightmare-turned-bittersweet memory home of my last four months, I rented a room in a motel, preferably in the slummiest neighbourhood. Nothing better for a heartache than some close combat. I looked around in the living room, and saw all the tales the sofa could tell. I saw Thomas running around my chair in the kitchen, I saw Mary rushing down from the stairs with perfect make-up and hair. And before my heart decided to break into even more, even smaller pieces, I turned to close the front door, and put the keys in the mailbox. My good old bike was packed with my things, patiently waiting for me to sit on its saddle, kickstart the engine, and let its roaring clear my gloomy thoughts and leave my heartache behind with the cosy little home.

Settling in the crappy motel was easier than I thought. It was barely a temporary solution, I wanted to find a decent apartment for rent, but I needed to leave the house before I really go insane. I kept calling people for jobs, for rents, for basic communication. I didn’t expect anyone from my former acquaintances to call me. But in the heat of the summer fling, I forgot about one person, who constantly tried to reach me, ever since I moved out from my old flat. My dear Oyster was calling me every now and then, and until now, I haven’t responded. Actually, I had the false notion that he gave up on me, and stopped calling. According to my phone though, he never stopped. I had tons of texts from him too, all unread. If I thought I will get through this year without sobbing like a teenage girl, well, I was wrong. The last message was asking where I was, so he could come and see me. I gave him the address of the motel, partly hoping that he will change his mind seeing it. But I was wrong again!

I was surprised to see him. After that fight we had in May, I thought he'll never set foot in my life ever again. But, awkwardly smiling with his puppy-eyes, Edmund was on my doorstep. "I bet you thought you've seen the last of me." he said as a welcome. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked in return. "I just brought you a few stuff, you might need." he handed over a bag to me. Toothbrush, towel, blanket, a box containing Abby's finest of leftovers. "Why?" I asked, without a hint of emotion in my voice. Ed was still looking at me and pulled his lips to a grin. "Because despite your best efforts, there are people who still care about you, John." Care. About me. That was funny, but I fought the urge to tell him that he's talking nonsense again. So I went with the usual eye-roll, and said "Well, thank you I guess." Ed was still standing in front of my motel-room, so I blinked at him in a questioning manner, if there was anything else he wanted. "John, I ah..." he stuttered "I wanted to talk with you." I looked around and shrugged. "We're talking, aren't we?" Ed shook his head. "I mean somewhere more...private." I crossed my arms in front of my chest, and stared at him as coldly as I could manage. "Whatever you might want to say, you can say here." I stated. "I wanted to talk about...Us." he sighed. "I'm sure you don't want your whole neighbourhood to hear." I shrugged. "I don't care." "But I do." his voice sounded pleading, and for a short moment, he almost made me slip. I inhaled, looked him in the eye, and asked him to leave. "Go home, Edmund. Please." "Why are you keep pushing people away like this?" he asked. I felt a sharp little pain in the place where other people had a heart. "You still don't get it, do you?" I smiled, but it quickly faded away. "I'm not going to leave until we sort this mess out." he was so determined, I felt the need to laugh. "You'll never sort the kind of mess out that is me." I explained patiently. "I can't change. I fuck things up. I hurt people. And I enjoy every single minute. I'm not a damsel in distress that has to be saved, Oyster. I'm a beast... a monster. I don't need fixing." I saw the look in his eyes and frankly, it made me want to bash my own head against the wall. As I said, I hurt people. That's the only thing I'm capable of... "Run away, as long as you can." my last words sounded tired. In fact, I was tired. Tired of it all. I wanted to tear the veil, break the facade of a madman I was wearing for way too long, but my mask became one with my face. "It's not just bad mood. It won't go away. This is who I am." I turned away from him. Then I felt his hand on my chin, turning my face toward his. "I know." That was all he said. "Yet you're here." I added. His stupid, irritating, lovely smile stayed on his stupid, irritating, lovely frog-face. "I choose you." he said. "And I'll choose you over and over. Without a doubt, without hesitation." "You're a special kind of stupid, you know that?" I whispered. "I'll ruin you, just like I did with all the others..." Ed shrugged. "I guess I'll take that risk." I laughed and shook my head. "I swear I'll punch you if you say you love me." I told him. He laughed, and let go of my face, only to hold my arm. "Fine, I don't say that I love you." I nodded. He continued. "But I don't say that I won't." "Oh, shut up, you!" I exclaimed and leaned down to kiss him. After we separated, he took a step back, and turned around. I was about to close the door, when I heard Ed speaking. "So, Johnny... Would you come back home?" I turned around, looked in his eyes, and couldn’t help, but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is, this is the end. I hope it wasn't too disappointing to anyone. See you in Haywire, or some other random bastard brainchild of mine. ;)


End file.
